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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27772807">CLARITY</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavhCaro/pseuds/SavhCaro'>SavhCaro</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Person of Interest (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:34:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27772807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavhCaro/pseuds/SavhCaro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel, to the prequel "Deliverance".  It covers the Pilot episode but from Reese's POV.  It is the Reese we meet in the police station after the altercation on the subway all the way to the last scene of the pilot where Reese decides his future.  <br/>It is not necessary to read "Deliverance" first but it helps fill out the background to some of the scenes in my story.  "Deliverance" explores Joan's influence of Reese during his time on the streets.  "Clarity" reflects just what that influence did for him and to him.</p>
<p>A huge shout out and thank you to my Beta Lisa L.  Without her polishing my scribbles there would be no story worth reading.  The brilliant and beautiful artwork is by Souhashi to open my story.  The final artwork is by caviezeldaily who knows my heart is all about Reese.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Person of Interest Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <a href="https://imgur.com/L6BJiO7">
      
    </a>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <i>Clarity:  clearness or lucidity as to perception or understanding, freedom from indistinctness or ambiguity.  The state or quality of being clear, of seeing clearly......</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Sometimes clarity is a two-step process.  The first might hit you on the back of the head, to get your attention so you can recognize the "rightness" of the moment.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The second however may be more subtle but also more profound......all the pieces coming together for complete understanding.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>That you are where you should be, at the time you should be there.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reese looked up when the door opened, expecting it to be the female detective, but instead, it was a man in a high priced suit holding a briefcase.   Staying relaxed and seated, Reese was curious about this new development.  Maybe he was in more trouble than he thought. Then he shrugged, what did he care after all? Snow and company would come now and he almost...almost... relished the thought. </p>
<p>The well-dressed man stood just inside the door, looking like he was not comfortable getting any closer.  He was a big man but looked soft.  Wasn’t military and wasn’t law enforcement.  Reese said nothing, just smiled while waiting him out, leaning back in his chair.</p>
<p>Clearing his throat the man finally spoke first.  “Sir, my name is Robert Spencer and I am here to take care of your bail and get you released.” That caught Reese by surprise. He raised one eyebrow and said nothing. He sat there for a minute watching as the lawyer began to sweat. This guy didn’t seem like one of the automaton types that the Company usually sent. They were usually cool as a cucumber as they were getting you released and headed to your date with a black hood. He wondered what this guy would do if he refused to go.  Finally, he shrugged and figured, why delay the inevitable. He knew this day of reckoning had been coming for a long time. </p>
<p>“Ok.  Let’s go,” he said as he stood up.  The lawyer almost pulled the door off the hinges in his haste to get out of the holding room.</p>
<p>Nothing else was said between them.  The attorney signed the necessary paperwork as Reese stood next to him.  He deliberately stood a little bit closer than necessary just to make the lawyer more nervous.  Might as well have some fun.</p>
<p>As they walked out the door, Reese and the attorney passed by Anton and his friends still sitting on the bench waiting to be booked.  Three of them were afraid to meet his eyes.  Except for Anton.  He still had a chip on his shoulder for being shown out in front of his crew.  He glared at Reese.  Until Reese made a move toward him and then he shrunk down as small as he could, trying to disappear.</p>
<p>Outside the precinct, across the street, a limo was parked under the street light with the engine running.  Reese thought, “this is getting more interesting by the minute.”  Now his curiosity was really piqued. The Company didn’t use limos for this sort of thing as far as he remembered.  Two men in heavy, dark winter coats stood by the car.   </p>
<p>“I appreciate the help counselor,  but who is picking up…. the tab?” Reese asked as they approached the limo and the two muscle-bound men moved to box him in. </p>
<p> “Our employer wants to have a word with you.” The one on the left said. He snapped his mouth shut loud enough that Reese swore he could hear it. Obviously no more information was going to be coming from him. Reese looked to the side at the other guy, assessing the danger from him and trying to make a mental decision. Should he fight what was about to happen? Would it even matter? </p>
<p>The guy on the left made an impatient gesture at the limo and Reese decided to remain vigilant but to see just how far down this rabbit hole went. He walked slowly to the car and waited while the guy opened the door for him. Reese took one last look around him, wondering if it would be his last.   </p>
<p>_________________</p>
<p>Surprisingly enough, there was no black hood waiting for him. Instead, it was an interesting ride with a lawyer.  Spencer obviously didn't know what to make of him.  He sat as far away from Reese as he could.  Reese couldn't blame him, though.  He knew what he looked like and figured he didn't smell very good either.  He watched the attorney going through his briefcase, looking at file folders and pretending to read.  Reese knew the man was watching him out of the corner of his eye.  But that was ok.  He knew he looked dangerous.......because he actually WAS.  But the man didn’t know Reese wasn't a threat to him.</p>
<p>The two guys in the front seat were a different story.  They hadn’t said much to him when he’d come out of the precinct.   They’d just stood by the limo trying to look formidable.  Reese had taken his hands out of his coat,  shrugged his shoulders to loosen it and risen up on the balls of his feet, ready if they made a move he didn’t like, all without realizing it.  Being alert and wary was instinctive after all the training he’d been given in the military..  Both men had recognized his stance and were wary.  They were obviously ex-military.  But they’d been out of the service for a while from the looks of them.  They had already made their judgment about him in those few minutes.  Reese hadn’t missed the look they’d exchanged when he’d walked closer.  Thinly veiled disdain.  They were doing what they were told to do but they were not happy about it.  What he couldn't tell was if they were just suspicious of him or worried about him with their boss, the one who had sprung him. And now, Spencer wouldn't answer any questions.  Reese had asked twice who had paid for him to get out of jail and why but the only thing the lawyer said was he'd get his answer soon.</p>
<p>Since there was no evidence of the black hood used when it ‘picked up’ errant CIA agents, he felt it was safe enough to give in to his curiosity.  Settling back in the limo he decided to relax and enjoy the ride as they rode out of Manhattan.  It was a lot better than the subway.</p>
<p>It had been early morning and still dark when he'd been released from jail but now it was sunny and cold.  The limo pulled up to a park along the river, under the Queensboro Bridge.  There was an empty baseball field on one side of the road.  On the other side was a cleared area with a bench.  And a man standing alone.  Reese sat up and took in all the details.  He didn't like so many unknowns.  He was looking for clues as to who this was and if he was a threat.  Seeing only one man, he figured that was who he’d been brought to see.  Maybe the one who had paid for him to get out of jail?   Smiling grimly to himself, he was ready to meet this mystery man and get some answers.</p>
<p>Reaching for the door handle, the door opened before he could grasp it.  One of the bodyguards had opened it and waited for him to get out.   Checking the immediate area around the limo, looking for possible threats and if needed, exits; seeing none, Reese got out and smiled in an overly friendly way and was met with a stony look.</p>
<p>Turning toward the man standing alone, he started toward him.<br/>
______________</p>
<p>“Do I owe you money?  Because, I’m uh……..running a little short at the moment,” he said, holding the old coat open, showing empty pockets.</p>
<p>“You don’t owe me anything, Mr. Reese.  That’s the name you prefer, isn't it?  I know you’ve had several.”  </p>
<p>That stopped Reese in his tracks.  This man knew his name, a name that he had not given to the police.  Who was this short, little man with the glasses? He was dressed nice and warm.  Good quality clothes compared to what Reese himself had on.  Certainly looked like he could afford the limo Reese had just gotten out of and the attorney who had gotten him out of jail.  But why?  </p>
<p>“Don’t worry.  I’m not going to tell anybody about you.” </p>
<p>Reese made a move toward the dapperly dressed man, “You don’t know anything about me.” he said with an undercurrent of a threat in his voice.</p>
<p>That caused both of the bodyguards to move toward Reese and their employer, but the little man waved them off.  Reese turned and looked at them, to make sure they had stopped coming.</p>
<p>Turning back to the man in front of him, Reese decided to outwait him.  This man had gotten him out of jail, had him driven, in a limo, to meet him. The ball was in his court.  He just kept his ears peeled for sounds behind him, just in case the two bodyguards decided to intervene in this very strange conversation.</p>
<p>“I know exactly everything about you, Mr. Reese.  I know about the work you used to do for the government.  I know about the doubts you came to have about that work.  I know that the government, along with everybody else, thinks you’re dead.”  </p>
<p>Looking away from Reese, the little man continued, “I know you’ve spent the last couple of months trying to drink yourself to death.”  Turning back toward Reese he finished, “I know you’re contemplating more efficient ways to do it.”  Looking back toward the river he fell silent, letting his words sink in.</p>
<p>Reese remained silent, watching this odd, little man talk about things he should not know anything about.   All of that, what he’d just described, had been going around in his head for months, years even.  It had almost driven him crazy because of the things he’d done.  Things he’d done in the name of his country.  And what that had cost him.  That guilt had driven him to extremes.  Dark extremes.  Deadly extremes.  The only reason he was standing here today was that someone had saved him…….Joan.  </p>
<p>“I know you are wondering how I know all this.  I have my ways of gathering information not normally available.  Let’s leave it at that for the moment, shall we?”</p>
<p>The little man was right,  Reese was curious about how he knew this.  He’d been ‘off the grid’ for almost 5 months, ever since he’d been back in the US.  He remained quiet, forcing his ‘benefactor’ to continue the conversation, which was becoming more interesting by the minute.</p>
<p>“You’d be surprised, there is a lot of information out there on everyone.” The man shrugged. “Or perhaps, based on your previous employment you wouldn’t be. But that information is available if you just know what to look for.  Good things, bad things.  So you see, information is not my problem. It is doing something with that information that is my problem.  The information I gather contains the possibility of bad things happening….to good people.  Or bad people about to do bad things.  Hopefully, that is where you will come in, to stop bad things from happening.  ”</p>
<p>Frowning, Reese looked closely at the man in front of him.  He didn’t seem crazy.  He was talking in a normal tone of voice.  His eyes looked normal behind the round lenses of his glasses.  They were wide open and only a little wild looking.  </p>
<p>“Who sent you?” was all Reese would say.</p>
<p>“Nobody sent me.”  Looking out over the river, he seemed to be rolling thoughts around in his head.  Reese could tell when he came to a decision.  Looking back at Reese he said, “You can call me Mr. Finch.”</p>
<p>“I think we can help one another.”  Looking away again, out over the river Mr. Finch continued.  “You don’t need a psychiatrist or a group or pills..”</p>
<p>Now Reese’s curiosity was finally getting the better of him.  “And what do I need?”</p>
<p>Smiling slightly, Mr. Finch responded, “ You need a purpose.  More specifically, you need a job.”</p>
<p>Turning back to Reese, Mr. Finch asked,  “Please come take a ride with me and I’ll show you the kind of job I think you need.” </p>
<p>_____________________</p>
<p>In the limo, going from the riverside to downtown Manhattan, Reese settled back in the plush seats.  It had been a while since he'd ridden in a private car.  Buses and subways had been his mode of travel for the last couple of months.  His relaxed demeanor was a cover however.  He was alert and ready for whatever might happen even though he was tired.  He'd had a rough night on the subway with the punks.  </p>
<p>Things had happened rather fast after that female detective had walked out of the room with the cup with his fingerprints on it.  Reese hadn’t been too concerned about that.  He felt ready to accept what was eventually going to happen.  You can only hide from the CIA so long.  They had a very long reach and very deep pockets.</p>
<p>But he'd been sprung from jail, taken out to a limo guarded by two muscle-bound wanna-be tough guys in nice winter coats, the types who acted like they didn't want to get their hands dirty by touching him.  But he wasn't worried about them.  He could handle them.</p>
<p>It was the little guy sitting next to him that gave him pause.  His clothes were pretty high end and if the car was any indication, he certainly had money.  Just what was his angle?  How did this innocuous-looking man, one who Reese realized must often be underestimated, how did he know anything about Reese?  The CIA was damn good at keeping any information about their operatives secret.  He pretty much ceased to exist as far as the rest of the world was concerned, when he went to work for them.  So how did this guy find out anything about a ghost?  How did he even know his name?</p>
<p>Moving around to get more comfortable, Reese actually became MORE uncomfortable.  He’d been 'off the grid' for the last 5 months.  The CIA thought he was dead.  Stanton WAS dead.  He was, technically, a nobody, he didn't exist.  And yet this guy seemed to know an awful lot about him.  And just how did he know to come to the jail to find him?  Reese realized he had a lot of unanswered questions that were quickly becoming more numerous.  In his world, too many unknowns tended to be dangerous.</p>
<p>Finch settled down in the limo after the door shut.  Pulling his leather gloves off his hands, he folded them neatly and placed them on the seat next to him.  Reaching into his overcoat he pulled his wallet out from an inside pocket.  He noticed that Mr. Reese didn't move when he reached into his jacket.  He either knew he was no threat or knew he could handle any threat.  He figured the former was closer to the truth.</p>
<p>Opening his wallet he counted out five $20.00 bills.  Holding them out to Reese he said, "Please take this as payment for your time today.  Even if we do not come to an agreement, you are welcome to keep the money."  He held the cash in his hand, waiting for Reese to take it.  "Go ahead.  I know you need the money."  </p>
<p>Reese cocked one eyebrow and gave "Mr. Finch" a snarky half-smile, "Don't mind if I do.  This will certainly cover the bottle those punks broke and then some."  He folded the money up and tucked it in his left shoe. One of the rules of the streets was to never carry money in your pocket.</p>
<p>Leaning back, Reese closed his eyes.  He gave the appearance of being relaxed but he let his ears do the work.  He listened to Finch give directions through the intercom to the driver.  They were headed toward the middle of Manhattan.  He could hear the low rumble of voices in the front but not well enough to understand them.  There was a glass partition between the front seat and the area where he was.  More importantly, here in the back, there was enough room to move around defensively if needed.   Finch was poking around on his phone.  He must be checking email or maybe even Facebook.   That last thought made him smile, which to the outside observer, was really more of a grimace.</p>
<p>_______________________</p>
<p>Reese sat up when he felt the limo come to a stop.  Looking out the window, he saw hundreds of people scurrying orderly in all directions.  Very few were talking to anyone nearby.  Most had their phones to the ears or were staring at their phones, oblivious to the people around them.</p>
<p>The car door opened and Reese looked up at the ‘muscle’ who had been sitting in the passenger seat upfront.  Reese smiled, being sure to show as many teeth as possible, just to give him something to “think” about but the man refused to make eye contact with him.  </p>
<p>“Mr Reese, walk with me please.” Turning toward the voice, Reese saw Mr. Finch standing next to him.  Gesturing with one gloved hand, the man turned away, clearly expecting Reese to follow.  </p>
<p>Everything seemed to be on the up and up so far. Reese didn’t feel threatened by anything that he couldn’t handle.  Nodding and smiling at the other bodyguard standing by the closed limo door, he turned to follow Finch.</p>
<p>Finch laid out his ‘business’ proposition to Reese.  Explaining his list of people that needed help.  And that he, Mr. Finch, needed Reese’s help to help these people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Walking away from the two muscle-bound bodyguards, Reese was feeling good.  It felt good to bang some heads together.   He'd been itching to bring those two goons down a peg or two since they picked him up at the police station.  They hadn't talked much but he found he didn't particularly like their attitude.    </p><p>Walking away from that weird little guy and his two muscles-for-hire, Reese stretched out his stride and moved through the crowd quickly.  He knew he looked out of place among all these business types, with the heavy but clean winter coats and phones stuck in front of the faces.  There were a few out-of-towners in the crowd.  They were easy to spot as they were looking up at the skyscrapers, not looking down at their phones.</p><p>The crowd parted around him as he walked.  He knew he projected an aura of menace, had in fact cultivated it when he was in the CIA, especially as dirty and unkempt as he now looked.  People stepped to the side when he walked toward them on the sidewalk, carefully stepping far enough away so that they didn't touch him.</p><p>The long walks he’d been taking with Joan while doing their scavenging was paying off.  He walked quickly and covered quite a bit of ground in a short time. After Ordos, he’d not been healthy enough to maintain the strict physical routine that the Army had instilled in him. And then, after he’d found out about Jessica….he’d not cared about much else except getting to the bottom of his next bottle. </p><p>As he walked, the buildings were getting shorter and more run down, no more skyscrapers, and the streets were getting dirtier.   He finally slowed down to a comfortable walk. It almost felt like he was waking from a dream.  He'd been on his way back to Joan and the warehouse when those teenage thug-wanna-bees had attacked him.  Had he really beaten them up?  And been at the police station?  He remembered the female cop talking to him but that was all that made an impression on him. And since he didn't have any plans to show up there again, he decided to forget about it.</p><p>He'd sobered up completely from the bottle he'd had on the bridge and the little bit of alcohol he'd sipped out of the bottle on the subway before it was broken by those punks.  He had the money that Finch had given him for his 'time'.  He decided to pick up a better bottle of booze to “celebrate” getting out of jail and not having a date with a black hood after all.  Taking a deep breath and shrugging his coat to a more comfortable position on his shoulders, he started looking for a liquor store as he headed back towards the warehouse.</p><p>Walking into the warehouse he stopped for a moment when he saw Mack and Joe.  They were the only ones, other than Joan, that he hung out with.  He nodded in their direction.  Looking towards the back where Joan's area was, he didn't see the look the two men exchanged.  From what Joan had told them they hadn't expected to see John ever again.</p><p>John didn't see Joan anywhere in the warehouse so he continued on to the back.  Stopping outside her enclosure, he called out her name.  When there was no answer after the second time he called her name, he pulled back the blanket doorway and peered in.  The place was empty.  He walked on in and made himself at home and waited for her to return. </p><p>Joe saw Joan approaching from outside,  He quickly made his way to her before she came into the warehouse.</p><p>"He's back."</p><p>"Who's back?" asked Joan as she unloaded some of her day's haul outside the door.</p><p>"John."</p><p>Joan stopped what she was doing and stood up.  So many different emotions flowed through Joan.  Happiness that he was back, concern that he was back, and curiosity about why he was back.  Looking at Joe, she waited for him to continue.</p><p>Knowing exactly what she wanted to know first, Joe gave her a smile, "Yeah, he's ok.  Not drunk and not beat up."  </p><p>Joan reached over with her hand and squeezed his arm.  Smiling into his eyes she said, "Thanks.  Can you watch my stuff for me?"</p><p>"Sure, go ahead."</p><p>Joan stopped outside of her area.  Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she worked on getting her thoughts in order.   She was glad to know he was ok but surprised he was back, or at least back so soon.  When he'd left her a couple of days ago she had the feeling he was gone for good.  That he had outgrown her and the community he had lived in for the past four months.</p><p>Pulling back the door flap, she walked in.  Seeing John sitting in his usual space, relaxed with his legs stretched out and his head back leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, made her heart skip a beat.  It was good to see him.</p><p>"John?" she asked quietly.</p><p>His eyes immediately flew open, and every sense was on alert.  He was surprised that she had entered and he hadn't been aware.  He must feel more comfortable here than he knew.</p><p>Jumping up he took the few steps needed to close the distance between himself and Joan.  He reached down and hugged her tightly, lifting her off the ground.  </p><p>"Boy, am I glad to see you!  Wait till I tell you what happened."  After one more tight hug, he carefully put the very flustered Joan back on the ground.</p><p>"What the hell, John!?!"  Joan was surprised at his enthusiastic welcome. Reese had always been reserved about being touched and touching someone.  The exuberant hello was out of character for the man she knew.  Something was up to make that much of a change in his behavior.  The only times Joan could remember him not pulling away from being touched were late at night when he had confided in her about his past, pouring his heart out, sometimes in tears, with his head in her lap.  But those were only after one of his midnight visits to the Washington bridge and finding the bottom of the bottle.  Liquor always played a part in his willingness to pull back the veil that hid that part of him.  Or, the one time she cried herself to sleep, leaning on his shoulder, telling him about her son and how she'd lost him.  He had comforted her.  Watching his face now, smiling and almost bouncing around she was very curious about what had brought about this change. </p><p>Stepping back she brushed her hands down the clothes, straightening them up.  "Good to see you too."<br/>________________________</p><p>John turned around and picked up the brown paper bag next to where he'd been sitting.  Presenting it to her with a flourish he said, "I bought some good stuff for us to celebrate!"  Removing the brown paper bag he proudly showed her a bottle of champagne.   Joan's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline in surprise.  She had never tried champagne.  Which wasn't saying much since she didn't really drink.</p><p>"Celebrate what John?  I figured you were gone for good when you left.  Or at least gone for a while."  </p><p>"Got a lot to tell you about. So much has happened since I left……….um, walked out."  John paused for a moment, remembering just how abruptly he'd left.  He'd barely spoken to her on his way out.  Then he remembered why he'd been abrupt.  Because of Jessica.  Almost everything that happened in his life came back to Jessica. </p><p>Snapping his head up he looked at Joan and smiled.  But this time was different. This time he had conquered his own demons about his memories of Jessica and his failure to save her.  He had taken Joan's words to heart over the last couple of months. And for the first time in a LONG time, he made a positive step forward to get through his battle with himself.........by himself.  THAT was what he wanted to celebrate. </p><p>He grabbed up the two glasses he'd scrounged up and handed them to Joan.  Then he set about opening the champagne bottle.  It opened with a nice loud pop.  He knew others outside the blanket walls would hear that pop and know exactly what it was.  He also knew that nobody would bother them while they celebrated.</p><p>Pouring half a glass for each of them, John smiled down at Joan.  "I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for me these last couple of months.  You talked to me many a night, all night, trying to help me deal with the things I've done and the life I've led."  </p><p>Touching his glass to hers again, he turned and sat down on the pallet where he normally slept.  Joan, in turn, sat down in her usual spot.  She said nothing, just sipping the champagne and wiggling her nose when the bubbles burst.  She smiled at John, waiting for him to continue.</p><p>He told her about going to the bridge and how he’d faced his demons on his own terms and fought back those dark demons that had usually pulled him back into the hell his life had turned into.  He explained how he’d heard her words over and over in his head, giving him reasons to fight back.  And he'd done it on his own.  For the first time, he had not needed help to come back from the abyss. And for the first time, he wasn’t looking at alcohol to drag him into oblivion to forget. For the first time, he wanted it to help him remember this moment and his victory. And even more important, he was thankful to have someone to come back to and share his day. Joan had given him this amazing gift and he knew he would be forever grateful to her.  </p><p>Pouring some more into their glasses, John then began telling her about his ride back to the warehouse on the subway and what had happened there.  Joan immediately sat up, intent on John's story.  She usually stayed off of the subway, not only because of the cost, but because there were always groups of men and gangs of boys who scavenged the subways late at night.  </p><p>John explained about the fight and then the arrest by NYPD.  He skipped over the conversation with the female detective, figuring he would probably never see her again.  It was when he started telling her about the attorney that paid to get him released that Joan began sitting on the edge of her seat. </p><p>"A lawyer paid to get you out of jail?  I didn't even know that you knew a lawyer!"</p><p>Taking a swallow of the champagne John smiled at her.  "I don't!  And that’s when it got really interesting!"  Tipping his glass up, he drained the last swallow.   Reaching for the bottle he looked over at Joan's glass.  "Drink up!  I don't like celebrating alone!"  </p><p>Smiling back, Joan took another swallow.  It was nice and bubbly but not really to her liking. </p><p>John poured more into his glass and when he tried to pour more in hers, she covered it with her hand and shook her head.  John smiled and emptied the bottle into his own glass.  He'd really have preferred beer but after the crazy day he'd had, he needed something different.</p><p>"Why did that lawyer get you out of jail?"</p><p>"Strangest thing, he really wouldn't tell me much.  He just said that his boss wanted to talk to me.  Never gave me his name."  John slowly sipped the champagne, remembering his hidden bewilderment in the limo.  He had never been comfortable with the unknown and that limo ride was strange in itself.  He deliberately left out any mention of the two bodyguards, if that's what they were.  No need to worry Joan more than she obviously was, from the look on her face.</p><p>John was a very good storyteller.  He told her about meeting the mystery man by the river.  His description of the little man with the round glasses and the spiky hair made her smile.  But he seemed to skim over the details of the conversation.  There was more to it than what he was telling her.  Joan could feel it.  But she figured he’d eventually tell her if he thought she should know.</p><p>Joan’s ears perked up when John talked about being offered a job.  But then he had gotten vague again.  He told her about his second ride in a limo.  Joan could not contain her surprise that he’d ridden twice in one day.   Back on the street, now in Manhattan, he described people pushing and shoving and almost bumping into him.  People tended to give him space so he was surprised at first with the jostling.  Then he noticed that most people weren’t looking where they were going, they were looking at their phones or intent on talking on their phones, oblivious to the mass of humanity around them.  People then suddenly seemed to become more aware of him, the condition of his clothes, and in all honesty, his smell.  He made her laugh describing people making an effort to NOT touch him.  </p><p>Being offered a job again brought Joan up short.  He explained that he’d finally called the little guy’s bluff.  He’d told him what he could do with his job offer.  John told her that he figured out the job he was offering sounded too good to be true so it probably was.  He was quite pleased with himself when he told Joan what he’d said about the woman the man wanted him to tail. That she was an ex-wife or something.  John didn’t mention knocking the two guys’ heads together.  He didn’t like telling Joan anything violent.</p><p>___________________________</p><p>Joan listened intently to John's recital of his day's events.  There was more to his story than he was letting on, but she wondered if he realized it.  Would he see it himself or was she going to have to point it out to him?  She didn't think he'd be happy with her point of view. </p><p>"This man, Finch, he gave me $100.00 for my time.” He chuckled, “apparently I've been undercharging for my time!  I spent some of it on the champagne but here's the rest of it.  Use it as you see fit."  John held out his hand with the money in it.</p><p>Joan reached for it but closed his hand over the money instead of taking it.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, she put down her unfinished glass of champagne with her other hand and gathered her thoughts.  This was probably going to be one of the hardest things she had ever done:  she was going to be sending a man that she loved like a son, away, just like she'd sent her own son away, but for different reasons.</p><p>"John,"  she said quietly.   With a puzzled look on his face, John looked at her intently.</p><p>"John, you can't stay here." </p><p>The silence that her words evoked was deafening.   The look of disbelief on John's face broke her heart.  But she had to be strong.  Strong for both of them.</p><p>"You are a good man, John.  With a good heart.  You are always welcome here but your time here has ended.  You were meant for bigger and better things.  There is nothing more for you here."</p><p>John never took his eyes off of her, nor did he make a sound.  He just jerked back his hand with the money in it. Joan watched as the walls began to come down in his eyes.  They reflected her and showed nothing of the inner John she had come to know and love.</p><p>"Maybe you should take that job you were offered.  You need to be back out in the world helping people.  I've told you before that you are a natural-born protector and there are so many people who need your help John, your protection. It sounds like that is what this man is offering you might be just what you need."</p><p>John still made no sound, no movement.  She could see anger slowly building up in him.</p><p>Still saying nothing,  John pocketed the money and began gathering the few items he'd brought back with him.  Pausing for a minute he pulled out one of the 20.00 bills and dropped it on his pallet where he'd been sitting.  Turning back around he started toward the door.</p><p>"You know I'm right, John.  Take that money and go get a hotel room.  Cut your hair, shave that beard.  Be the man you are supposed to be.  If you decide to not take up the offer from that man, find something, somewhere you can help people.  You have lived outside of the normal world long enough.  You were born to do more, John. And there are so very many people out there who need you, more than I do." Joan held back her sob at these last words. She would have to be strong to push him away from her and out where he NEEDED to be.  </p><p>John paused for a moment before moving the blanket door aside.  Joan saw the tenseness in his shoulders, hunched up around his ears.   His hand balled up into a fist full of the blanket.  She could see the muscle twitching in his jaw just above his beard.  </p><p>“John, you know I’m right.  You have hidden here long enough. The world needs you.  I know there are people out there that need you.  Listen to your heart, John.  You’re ready.”  Joan said softly.  </p><p>With a slight shake of his head, he moved the blanket aside and was gone.</p><p>“I believe in you, John.  You just need to believe in yourself,” she said softly to the empty air while choking back the sobs.</p><p>She knew she had blindsided him when she’d told him he had to leave. Her heart wanted him to stay.  He was the son she had lost.  She loved him so much.  But she had known from the start that he was destined for the world outside their community.  He had been so broken when she found him but she knew even then once he was fixed, he was made for bigger and better things.</p><p>Reaching for the crumpled 20.00 bill he’d dropped on his pallet she curled her hands around it.  Was this going to be the last thing she’d ever have from him?  Bowing her head she gave in to her own pain of losing her ‘son’ again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dream of dreams, his time in Mexico with Jessica, was a welcome respite from the day's events. He remembered the light breeze blowing through Jessica’s hair from the open window. He remembered the feeling of having Jessica’s warm body next to his.  He could almost hear the rhythmic sounds of her breathing.</p>
<p>As the cheap, straight liquor he'd downed helped him dive deeper into the memories he experienced. The alcohol had put him almost into a comatose state, oblivious to everything.  Except for the phone ringing.  It seemed to get louder with every ring.  The discordant sound was jarring to his senses. It was his fight to stay in the dream that finally woke him up.<br/>
Blinded by hurt and anger John moved through the warehouse with a purposeful stride.  Looking neither right nor left, he had eyes only for the warehouse door.  Ignoring the few voices that called his name, he walked out of the only place he'd felt truly safe in the past few months and out into the world he'd run away from.</p>
<p>His mind was tormented with disbelief that he'd been told to leave and anger that he’d allowed himself to care, to be open to someone, to become a friend.  All those years in the CIA came rushing back.  Keep to yourself.  You have no family.  You walk in the dark because you are the dark.  He was nothing.  Once again he was nothing.</p>
<p>Eventually, he slowed down and began to notice where he was.  He'd been in such a blind rage that he'd completely ignored where he was going.  Coming to a stop he looked around warily.  He knew he’d totally lost it if he could walk the streets and have no clue where he was or where he had been.  That alone told him just how badly his world had tumbled down around him.</p>
<p>Looking down he realized all he had in the world was in a small bag.  The few things that were his.  And they really weren't his.  They were just things he'd found during the scavenging that he and Joan used to do late at night.  Thinking of Joan made his anger and hurt come back full force.</p>
<p>Anger he could deal with.  That emotion had actually helped him survive these last couple of years.  But the hurt.  ........the hurt was new.  He didn't know how to handle that.  He’d opened up and shared himself with Joan like no one else.  Even Jessica hadn't known some of the things he'd told Joan.  The fact that she was the one who told him to leave was almost unbearable.  But his anger helped sustain him, kept him going.</p>
<p>He noticed a liquor store across the street and decided he needed some booze.  Not that bubbly champagne shit.  He didn't feel like celebrating being 'evicted' from the warehouse.  He wanted to be numb.  Numb was always good.  Better than pain because pain made you make stupid decisions, the ones that inevitably came back to bit you in the ass when you least expect it.  do stupid shit.</p>
<p>______________________</p>
<p>With a pint of so-so liquor Reese went looking for a place to stay.  The part of town he was in was the lower end of society.  Not in the gutter per se,  but there were a number of boarded-up storefronts and trash in the street next to overflowing trash cans.  The few people on the street seemed to keep to themselves with their coats pulled tight around them, ignoring everybody and not making eye contact.  </p>
<p>Down one of the alleys he walked by, he could hear laughter and cursing.  Before he got very far he could hear fists hitting bodies and bodies hitting the ground.   Shaking his head he kept walking, looking for a place to hold up till he figured out what he was going to do next.  </p>
<p>After a few more blocks, the scenery got a little bit better.  More stores were open for business and a few more people were walking on the sidewalk.  He headed toward the neon VACANCY sign he saw at the end of the block.  Before going in the front door of the hotel, more like a flophouse really, Reese stopped to check out his surroundings.  Old habits were hard to break and those habits had saved his life quite a few times.  Seeing no obvious threats, he suddenly realized that he'd been so comfortable, felt so safe with Joan and the community in the warehouse that he hadn't felt the need to always check his surroundings before going inside.  That thought caused a slight ache that he quickly squashed and turned and walked inside.</p>
<p>He got a room for one night.  He didn't know if he'd still be here for another night or not.  The future definitely looked cloudy at the moment.  With the lack of action going on in the hotel, he doubted he'd have trouble getting a room for another night if he needed it.  He didn't have that much money to waste on a fancy place just to sleep.  </p>
<p>Letting himself into the room, the dingy overhead light showed exactly what he paid for.  A bed, a sink, and a TV.  There was a communal bathroom down the hall.  Throwing his 'luggage' on the bed, the small paper bag looked rather pitiful.  After 5 months all he had in the world was on his back and in that bag.  He’d traveled light before but this was the lightest ever.</p>
<p>Turning on the TV, he realized with a shock that it was black and white.   Shaking his head he didn't care if it was color or not.  He hadn't looked at a TV since...abruptly everything seemed to freeze.  There was no sound except his own suddenly labored breathing and his pounding heartbeat, roaring in his ears.  He didn't see the TV in front of him...he saw a TV in a nice house in New Rochelle.   A TV showing a wedding video.   And a frightened Jessica, for just the smallest moment.  Looking just like he visualized her when she had reached out to him for help.</p>
<p>Literally growling at the memory he ripped open the bag with the pint bottle in it.  Screwing off the top, he took a long swallow straight from the bottle.  He immediately began coughing and almost threw up the precious elixir.   It wasn't rotgut liquor but he'd gotten out of the habit of drinking straight from the bottle.  Joan had helped him kick that habit.</p>
<p>Joan.  Even thinking her name hurt almost as much as thinking of Jessica.  The pain was different but it cut almost as deep.  Taking a smaller swallow, he screwed the top back on and set the bottle on the bedside table.</p>
<p>Walking over to the sink to rinse his mouth out, he looked up in the mirror and was shocked.  Mirrors had been hard to come by on the streets.  He knew he had a beard.  He hadn't shaved in five or was it six months?  He knew his hair was long but the bum staring back at him in the mirror was a stranger.  The clothes he had on were serviceable but were worn and mismatched.  Time for a change.</p>
<p>Locking the door behind him he had to laugh.  The only thing in the room was an open pint bottle of liquor and a little paper bag full of stuff that meant something only to him.  Oh well, better safe than sorry.</p>
<p>Remembering a Salvation Army location a few blocks back, he figured that would be a good place to start.  Always nice people there, and even more importantly, they never asked many questions. </p>
<p>When he got there, he could see that he’d arrived just after dinner time. A few stragglers were walking out.  He made his way in and grabbed a few snacks.  Stuffing them in his pockets he went looking for toiletries:  razors, toothbrush, and toothpaste, etc.  Since he was there, he checked out their used clothing too. The selection was better than he expected. He got some newer clothes that at least matched and had all their buttons and the zippers worked.  Shoes were a little more difficult to find but he finally settled on a broken-in pair of boots.  Altogether, it didn't cost but a little over 15.00.</p>
<p>Making his way back to his room he decided he could afford one more bottle of liquor, at least another small bottle.  Back at the hotel, he was ready to make some serious changes.  Changes for what, he wasn't sure yet.  But change was going to happen if for no other reason than to prove to Joan he could make it on his own.....even if….even if she never found out.</p>
<p>Taking a shower, he realized he really did feel better.  Better than he expected. He felt like he'd washed off the remains of living on the streets.  Showers had been few and far between.  Pulling on the jeans he'd gotten at the SA, he was surprised at how good they felt.  He'd been wearing baggy, old-man clothes for so long he'd forgotten what decent clothes felt like.  Putting on the boots he was glad he'd picked up socks to go with them.  Broken-in or not they were still new to HIS feet.  He ditched the clothes he’d had on when he checked in.  Too old and worn, and in all honesty, too smelly to keep or even give away.</p>
<p>Back in his room, he tackled his hair and his beard.  He'd bought a pair of scissors at the SA.  They weren't real sharp but they'd get the job done.   Taking a swig of liquor he started in on his hair. Took a while, he was amazed at how long his hair was.  He’d never actually cut his own hair before.  Looking at himself in the mirror he felt like he was watching a ghost slowly reappear.  Stopping for a moment, he took a couple of more swigs off the bottle, trying to decide if he wanted to meet that man again. By this time, he’d cut quite a bit of his hair off already but he figured he’d neaten it up with the razor.  </p>
<p>Finishing off the first bottle of liquor, he reached for the second one.  Taking a couple of big swallows he looked back at the mirror.  Now to start working on his beard.  Using the scissors he cut the length off of it.   With his haircut and his beard shorter, he looked nothing like the ‘bum’ who had walked into the hotel a couple of hours ago.  Now it was time for the razor.  Smiling grimly to himself he was glad he'd been able to find a pack of razors.  One was definitely not going to be enough.</p>
<p>Taking another long swallow from the bottle he looked at his reflection, trying to decide whether to shave his beard off completely or leave some, like a scruff.  Rubbing his chin he looked at himself in the mirror and saw a shadow of his former self from his CIA days.  It would be a good place to start. It might make him more recognizable if anybody from the Company was looking for him but he'd deal with that if it happened.  No point in worrying about it now.</p>
<p>Finishing up his shaving, he heard a news brief about an attack on the subway.  Turning to watch it he saw a sketch of himself.  Or at least how he’d looked an hour ago.  Turning back to the mirror he rubbed his hand on his clean-shaven face.  It had been a good idea to shave it completely. The NYPD was a more pressing concern right now than the CIA.  The farther he could get away from looking like the bum in the subway, the better.</p>
<p>After shaving off all of his beard and cutting his hair to a semi-normal length he pulled on a gray undershirt and stretched out on the bed.  Sipping more and more out of the second bottle it was finally having the desired effect.  Straight liquor on an empty stomach was making it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.  Just a few more swallows and he'd have killed the bottle. But that proved too much trouble.  Stretching out his hand, he tried to put the bottle on the bedside table......and missed.   Falling to the floor, it broke and spilled out what little was left in the bottle but he couldn’t muster up the will to care. He just wanted the promised oblivion.  </p>
<p>He hoped he'd have the good dream, the one of him and Jessica in Mexico.  Not the bad dream of death and pain and the betrayal of Stanton in Ordoz.  Or even worse, the nightmare of New Rochelle.  Please, after all the hurt and bewilderment of today, please let it be Jessica.  And it was...........</p>
<p>_______________________________</p>
<p>Half an hour later there was a knock on the door.  Reese was oblivious.  The cheap liquor had done the trick.   He was more passed out than sleeping.</p>
<p>Another knock on the door and when there was no answer, a small click came from the lock and the doorknob turned slowly.  Quietly the door opened as the man on the outside of the door tapped it one more time, listening for any sound or movement.  Hearing nothing but the TV, the door swung fully open. The two men that Finch had hired as security quietly walked into the room.   One was sporting a black eye and the other had tape over his nose.</p>
<p>Seeing Reese slumped over in the bed, they both looked carefully around the room without making a sound.  They were both wary of the man in the bed.  Seeing one empty liquor bottle in the trash and another broken bottle on the floor, they both visibly relaxed.  Neither was in a hurry to face the man in the bed again while he was conscious. Only a great deal of persuasion in the form of cash had gotten them to agree to deal with him again.</p>
<p>Walking to opposite sides of the bed, one pulled a hypodermic needle out of his pocket.  Popping the cap off he prepared to deliver a sedative.  Their assignment was to bring this man back to their employer, Mr. Finch no matter what.   The bigger man stood ready to grab Reese’s arms if he put up a fight while the other administered the shot. But other than a slight twitch, Reese stayed quiet.</p>
<p>Turning him over, both men stepped back.  The man lying on the bed in front of them looked nothing like the bum they’d driven around earlier today.  Frowning, they both took in the shorter hair and lack of beard.  Even the clothes were changed.  But the guy at the front desk had described him perfectly when he checked in.  Shrugging their shoulders, they gathered everything in the room that belonged to the man, put it in a bag and the two of them half carried Reese to the service elevator and out to the waiting limo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eyes half-open, he rolled toward the sound of the phone.  But he couldn't roll far because something had his left hand. ‘What the hell?’ he angrily muttered. Fully alert now he pulled on his hand.  Looking up he saw a zip tie of some sort holding him tight to the headboard.  A quick glance around and he realized he was not in the same room he'd passed out in. The cheap, peeling paint of the flophouse room he’d rented was now replaced by textured wallpaper and fancy fixtures on the walls. ‘Where am I and how did I get here?’ Reese wondered as he assessed the situation.  This was an upgrade he wasn't aware of.  And danger always came from not knowing.</p>
<p>The phone continued to ring.  Stretching as far as he could he was able to grab the receiver.  Before he could say anything he heard a man's voice.  Immediately Reese's trained senses came to the forefront.  He recognized the voice of the man from the day before.  The one who had taken him on the strangest ride to downtown NYC.  </p>
<p>"You need to understand Mr. Reese.  The information I have is incomplete......but it is never wrong.  You need to know what it would be like to be forced to listen to someone get murdered and not able to do anything about it." </p>
<p>The phone went suddenly dead only to be replaced by noises from the room next door.  A woman was screaming.  Furniture was being tossed around and broken.  It was the sound of a fight. And from the screams of the woman, it was a fight for her life.</p>
<p>Without any conscious thought, Reese went into overdrive.  Frantically pulling on the zip tie he was not able to get loose.  Looking around the room he saw a mirror next to the bed.  Grabbing the lamp he threw it at the mirror, shattering it, spilling shards of glass all over.  Stretching as far as he could Reese grabbed a large piece of broken glass and began sawing on the zip tie.  The violence in the next room escalated.  Tightly gripping the broken glass in his right hand, he ignored the blood running down his arm as he worked on the zip tie.  He HAD to get free! The woman sounded frantic and terrified. The desperate need to help her burned in his head.  Finally, he cut through and dove toward the door dividing the two rooms.  </p>
<p>Amazingly, they were not locked and he fell through into the next room.  Scrambling up, he realized he was looking at a speaker.  He heard the tape giving a date of '12 August 2008' and then ending.  There was no one in the room.  Through another door, he could see a man sitting &amp; holding a newspaper.  The man on the phone, the man from yesterday.  His mind quickly came up with the name the man had given him, Finch.</p>
<p>Finch started talking and gesturing with the newspaper folded in his hand.  Reese wasn't really following what he was saying. His head was still driving him to protect. He blinked and saw once more that they were the only two people in the room.  There was no immediate danger. There was no woman in distress.  Reese knew he was not in the flophouse he’d originally passed out in. And he’d woken up tied to a damn bed!  What the HELL was going on? How did he end up here……….where ever ‘here’ was? </p>
<p>He heard the man, Finch, saying something to him but he couldn’t move past the fact that he was in a strange place with no memory of how he got here, none! In the past,  gaps in his memory had always spelled danger. His every sense was alert for clues.  Finch, meanwhile, continued talking.  </p>
<p>Finch got his full attention when he mentioned Mexico.  Reese's CIA-trained brain snapped into focus with the mention of his friend’s’ death..  Moving fast, with laser-focused attention, he shoved the little man up against the wall and pushed his forearm into his throat.  "What the hell do you know about it?" Reese growled through clenched teeth.</p>
<p>Pulling on Reese's arm that was up against his neck, Finch was able to gasp out, "It's the truth.  You left the government because they lied to you.  I never will.  I think all you've ever wanted to do was protect people."</p>
<p>Hearing Joan's words coming out of the man's mouth pulled Reese back from the edge.  Protect people.  He backed away from Finch and collapsed into a chair as the anger and adrenaline gave way to confusion and control.  Finch took a death breath and massaged his throat.</p>
<p>Reese took a hard look at the recorder.  He recognized it as government-issued.  "That's wire-tap recording equipment.  NSA or FISA."</p>
<p>Looking back at Finch he said point-blank, 'You're not government'.  </p>
<p>"No, I'm not."  Finch walked over and sat down, facing Reese.  "You could say I'm a concerned third party".</p>
<p>Possessing government property yet not being government only added to the strangeness of the whole situation.  Reese was on edge because of so many unknowns but he was also curious about why this professor-looking little man had gone to such lengths to get to him, a man who was broken, a man who had nothing left to give.  Getting him out of a police station, taking him for a ride in a limo, offering him a job, and then finding himself in a ritzy looking hotel room tied to a bed.  This was more convoluted than any of the missions that he and Stanton had worked on.  </p>
<p>Finch now had his full attention and whatever this was, the story better be good!</p>
<p>"You couldn't have saved the woman on the tape or your friend.  But you could have if you'd known IN TIME.  And that's the other thing I'm offering you, a chance to be there IN TIME."</p>
<p>Pulling out a picture of a woman, Finch handed it to Reese.</p>
<p>"It's not too late for her. You can help me stop what's about to happen.  The question is, will you?"</p>
<p>Reese sat there, saying nothing but his thoughts were moving at lightning speed.  His brain was processing what Finch had just told him.  He kept hearing Joan's voice about needing to protect people and then Finch’s offering him a chance to do just that.  What did he have to lose? There was no one who cared anymore what he did or what happened to him. Joan had literally kicked him out so this may be the next logical step.’ Besides, at the moment, he didn't know what else to do.</p>
<p>Sitting there quietly, Finch watched Reese work through in his head what he had just learned and more importantly what he had just been offered.  It was tempting to push a little more to help the decision making but he'd already gotten the feeling that Reese liked to figure things out for himself.</p>
<p>Barely aware of the pain from his cut hand,  Reese looked at the little man with glasses.  He seemed earnest enough but he'd learned long ago not to trust his first, second, or even third impression of someone.  He didn't seem to be dangerous and even injured he knew he could handle him. What he didn't like was not knowing anything about the man in front of him. The man was a walking contradiction and Reese didn’t like contradictions.  He was well dressed like he was the first time they'd met under the bridge. He was wearing what some might call a power suit and yet he seemed like someone who preferred to blend into the woodwork.  And how had he gotten a hold of a government surveillance audiotape and player when he was clearly not a government spook, he'd REALLY like to know!  What was his angle?  What was his game?</p>
<p>Finch noticed the blood dripping from Reese's hand.  He realized that he needed first aid, well...........first.   Standing up, he walked to the nearby bathroom sink without saying a word.  He could feel Reese's eyes on him, watching his every move.  Finding a hand towel he walked over to the ice bucket.  Opening it up, he used a plastic cup to dip out some ice and put it in the towel.  Once he had a good handful in the towel he turned to face Reese.   Holding up both hands, one empty and the other holding the towel with ice he waited for a signal from Reese.  </p>
<p>Extending the ice and towel, he offered it to Reese, “For your hand.”</p>
<p>Looking down, Reese saw the blood oozing out of his palm and down his arm.  He reached for the towel and ice and closed his injured hand around it.  The pain eased rather quickly, which was good.  He needed to focus on the matter at hand..............just what was he being offered?  And more importantly, WHY was he being offered this second chance?.</p>
<p>Seeing the puddle of water on the floor Finch finally decided to get things moving.  He stood up and got the ice bucket and brought it back to Reese.  Enough water and blood had dripped on the floor.</p>
<p>Reaching into his wallet he pulled out a money clip.  The thickness made it look like there were a lot of bills there but Reese couldn’t tell what those bills were.  Could be tens, could be twenties.  Didn’t really matter except that it was definitely more money than he’d seen in a long while.</p>
<p>"Here's some money to buy some decent clothes.  And not Goodwill variety.  Buy some new clothes.   Feel free to stay the rest of today and tonight here.  The room is paid for.  I'll be back in the morning to pick you up.  I'll have someone clean up the damage in the other room."  Looking down at the floor he raised his eyebrows.  "Shall I make sure they clean up the blood as well?" Reese nodded his acceptance of the help.</p>
<p>Walking to the door, Finch turned around and looked at Reese.  "I'll be back around 7am in the morning.  Please be ready.  We have a lot to cover tomorrow." He shut the door behind him as he walked out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John sat there looking at the closed door.  The towel with the ice in it was dripping more and was now tinged pink.   Opening his hand and removing the ice and towel he looked at the cut.  He'd cut it pretty good with the piece of the broken mirror.  That reminded him of what had happened since then.  How long had it been?  An hour?</p>
<p>He normally had a pretty good internal clock but this was different.  The grogginess he felt was more than a hangover.  He'd had more than his fair share of those.  Standing up he walked back through the connecting door and then into the bedroom where he'd woken up.  </p>
<p>There were shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor and the bedside table.   The remnants of the zip tie were still attached to the headboard.  Looking around the room, John saw a small paper bag on a chair but nothing else.  Walking over he picked it up.  He was surprised to see the few items he'd had with him when he had checked into that other hotel.  </p>
<p>How the hell did he get from there to here?  Who brought him?  The sluggishness he was feeling made him believe he'd been drugged. Probably Pentobarbital. On top of being drunk, no wonder he was so clueless.</p>
<p>There was a knock on the door in the living room.  Walking back to the room, he noticed the recorder that had been playing earlier was still there and the newspaper Finch had left. </p>
<p>He had no obvious weapons to defend himself with if he needed it. Unless you counted the broken mirror, the leg of the nightstand, the heavy looking lamp all of which were in another room.  But he did have his fists. He looked at the shadows underneath the door. It was only one person so he waited another second and waved his hand in front of the spyhole in case the person on the other side was counting on shooting him through the door. When there was no reaction, he then peered through the spyhole in the door before opening it.  It was a housekeeper.  She knocked again.  He opened the door a crack.</p>
<p>The woman held up a small first aid kit,  "I was told to bring this up to you.  Is everything ok?"</p>
<p>John gripped the dripping towel with his right hand and said, 'Yes thank you."  Taking the kit with his left hand he shut the door before she could ask any more questions.  </p>
<p>Grimacing to himself he thought, the Finch guy seems to think of everything. And yet he had to respect a man who was prepared for many eventualities.</p>
<p>Sitting down at the table, John went to work bandaging his hand.  While he worked he let his mind wander.  What was it about this man, Finch?  This was the second time he'd offered him a job.  He certainly looked like he could afford to hire anybody he wanted.  Hell, those two bodyguards he'd had with him before could take care of any normal, everyday threat.  Why did he want him?  And what did it say that he’d gone to a lot of trouble to offer that job again despite Reese being forceful with his ‘No’ the first time.</p>
<p>Thinking about the job itself, John had to admit though that the two bodyguards didn't have enough brainpower between the two of them to power a light bulb.  Finch obviously thought Reese had skills that he needed and that they did not have.  Then he remembered Finch knew about his work in the CIA.  So if he was as good as he said he was, he knew exactly what skill set Reese had to offer.</p>
<p>That brought him back around to wondering about the job he was being offered.  Again he could hear Joan in the back of his mind telling him to accept the job.   Nodding his head he remembered her saying he was, what did she call it?  ‘A natural-born protector.’   That reminded him of the late-night talks he and Joan had had when he was living on the streets with her.  He'd told her more about himself than anyone..........except Jessica. </p>
<p>As always, even a passing thought about her or even thinking her name brought a sharp pain in his chest.  He was getting better at managing it, but it was still there every time.</p>
<p>His curiosity was piqued about this job offer.  Might be worth talking more about it with Finch.</p>
<p>After bandaging his hand up, Reese scooped up the money clip that Finch had left for him.  Counting out the money he was surprised to find almost $1,000.00.  He could get some very decent clothes for that money.  </p>
<p>Pocketing the clip, he put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door and went out to find some better clothes.</p>
<p>Walking through the lobby of the hotel was quite different than walking through the lobby of the ‘hotel’ he’d checked into last night.  People were giving him disapproving looks.  He figured his ‘Goodwill hand-me-downs’ didn’t quite fit in with the clientele.  But he could easily change that. He’d been taught at the Agency how best to blend in to his surroundings when he wanted to. </p>
<p>Ignoring the murmurs as he walked out the door, Reese walked past the doorman and walked  down the street.  After a couple of blocks he hailed his own taxi and told him to take him to……</p>
<p>Getting out of the taxi at Nordstrom’s, Reese stood there a moment and looked at the store windows with all the nicely dressed mannequins.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually walked into a department store to shop for himself.  The Agency had always supplied his clothes and before that the military.  Since he had ‘left’ the Agency the only shopping he’d done was at Goodwill or donations from the Salvation Army.  This trip was going to be quite interesting.</p>
<p>After about two hours Reese had had enough.  Oversolicitous sales women seem to have an opinion about every single piece of clothing he looked at.  And they all wanted him to try stuff on.  He finally gave in and tried on a few things, if for no other reason than to keep them from ‘fussing’ over him.   </p>
<p>He was surprised by the sizes.  Apparently being shot and then living on the streets he’d lost a good bit of weight.  He bought a couple of shirts, both button up and pullover, some jeans and a leather jacket.  Thinking about how Finch was dressed both times he’d met him, he decided to buy a suit just in case.  Buying off the rack didn’t bother him and he didn’t have time to have the suit altered.  Underclothes and a couple of pairs of shoes took care of all he figured he’d need for now.   And he STILL had money left!  Finch was very generous!</p>
<p>Walking down the street in NYC in new clothes, carrying clothing bags from Nordstroms, Reese felt like he fit right in.  He had to admit it felt good to have brand new, unworn clothing on.  He’d never thought about clothes before, they were just part of his ‘uniform’.  But changing from the soft and clean but pre-worn clothes he’d worn into Nordstrom to the clothes he had on now was………..well, amazing.  The fit was perfect for one thing.  His previous clothes were a close fit but sometimes needed a belt to hold them up or needed a button that was missing to keep the jacket closed to stay warm.  It was definitely a change and it was a nice one.</p>
<p>Reese realized he was actually hungry.  Thinking about it he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since the crackers last night.  </p>
<p>Sitting at a table outside on the street, Reese took in all the NYC life going on around him.  He’d been so deep in his own head for so long he’d forgotten what the world looked like.  He ordered something Italian.  It had been so long since he’d had real gourmet type food he got lost in the sensory experience of taste.  He decided to forgo the suggested wine with his dinner.  He wanted to be able to remember all that was going on.  He’d been drinking for so long to try and forget.</p>
<p>Taking a taxi back to the hotel where Finch had generously paid for another night, he took his bags of clothing essentials and made his way to his room.  He hung the clothes up in the closet and kicked off his shoes.   Laying back on the bed he finally had a moment to think through all that had happened in the last 24, hell, the last 48 hours.  He had been used to things happening fast when he had worked in the CIA but living on the streets for months, time had moved differently.  Each day was like the other.  It felt like he’d been dumped back into the real world and he needed to get up to speed fast. To that end, he turned on the news and fell asleep when the news cycle started to repeat itself.</p>
<p>______________________</p>
<p>Waking up in an exceptionally soft bed with clean sheets was jarring.  But nice.  Especially as this time, he was not being zip-tied to the headboard!  </p>
<p>Stretching out the kinks, Reese thought about what he was about to do.  Finch had told him just enough to pique his curiosity.  Whatever Finch’s real reasons were, Reese had gotten a good night’s sleep out of it at least and some decent clothes.  Now he was ready to see just how far down the rabbit hole Finch was leading him.  </p>
<p>Finch had left a cell phone for him to use.  Seeing that it had internet access Reese decided to do a little research on his own to find out just who Finch really was.</p>
<p>The phone rang on the bedside table.  Picking it up, he heard a woman’s voice telling him that his ride was here.  Reese thanked her and grabbed the room key and walked out the door.</p>
<p>Out in front of the hotel was a black limo with a driver standing by the side.  Very few of his missions with the CIA had perks like this.  He and Stanton were supposed to ‘fit in’ not stand out, and this mile-long limo certainly stood out.  The driver called out, “Mr. Reese, this way please,” and opened the back door.  Reese looked in and there was Finch.</p>
<p>Finch greeted him, “Good morning Mr. Reese.  Shall we get started?” he asked, indicating for him to get in.  Raising one eyebrow, Reese gave a half smile and slid in on the soft leather seat.</p>
<p>Looking over at Reese, Finch slowly nodded his head.  “I see you put the money to good use.  If you need more please let me know.”</p>
<p>“Thanks but I’m good and I still have some leftover.”</p>
<p>After a moment or two of silence, Reese finally asked, “You want to tell me where we’re going?”  He realized he was taking Finch at his word.  He knew nothing about this little man with all the money and yet he willingly got into the car with him.  That in itself was unusual for him, and that made him uncomfortable.  He didn’t like having too many unknowns, which usually meant danger.</p>
<p>The limo dropped them off in a slightly run-down area of Madison Ave and drove off.  Finch and Reese walked down a tunnel full of litter and very few people.  Reese was wondering if he’d recognize any of them from Joan’s group but he didn’t.</p>
<p>Finch turned into one entry and began climbing stairs.  He explained it was an old library that had closed and he’d purchased it a couple of years ago.  There were open books strewn all over the floor, half-empty bookshelves covered in dust.  It looked like it had been deserted for quite some time.  </p>
<p>As they climbed the steps, Reese mentioned that he’d done a little bit of digging himself, trying to find out about Finch but came up with nothing.  Finch paused and turned around to Reese, “I’m a really private person.” and then continued climbing the stairs.  Reese just shook his head slightly and smiled and followed him on up.  Maybe Finch was going to show him his headquarters, where he worked.  Might even learn more about Finch himself, places could sometimes tell you more about a person than the person themselves. He wondered if there would be any other ‘employees’.</p>
<p>As they entered the ‘headquarters’ Reese was surprised at the lack of a business environment.  It was full of books and very dusty just like the rest of the place.  There were no other people.  Just two computer monitors on a desk and a bulletin board behind the table.  Not much else.</p>
<p>Finch removed his suit jacket, placed it on a hanger, and hung it on a hook on the wall.  Straightening it on the hanger he brushed off invisible specks of dust.  Reese watched the fussy little mannerisms with interest.  A vague construct was taking shape in Reese’s mind.  Opening one of the drawers in the desk Finch pulled out a hand full of different looking cards and put them in three stacks.  </p>
<p>“Drivers licenses, credit cards, and 6 cover identities.  Funds will be replenished through a proxy corporation.  Just like when you were with the agency.” </p>
<p>Reese looked Finch in the eyes.  He wondered if Finch was just trying to make him comfortable with their arrangement with that comment or was it a subtle reminder of just how much he knew about him.  Reese filed that away to puzzle over later.</p>
<p>“When I was with the agency I knew who was picking up the tab.”</p>
<p>Looking past Finch at the bulletin board, something caught his eye;  a long list of numbers. Walking over to the board he realized there were pictures associated with the numbers.  They were not just numbers, they were social security numbers!  And there were pictures and news articles with strings connecting them to some of the numbers.  It was a long list.  It had to be the list Finch had talked about!</p>
<p>Looking back at Finch in amazement Reese asked, “Is this THE list?” </p>
<p>Finch nodded, ‘Yes’  </p>
<p>“You don’t get names, do you? Only social security numbers.  Each one maps out to violent crimes…and all of these numbers represent……...”</p>
<p>Sadly, Finch said.  “Lost chances.” </p>
<p>Again,  Reese pushed to get more information, especially regarding how he was getting the numbers.  But again, Finch rebuffed any attempt to pry certain information out of him.  </p>
<p>“All I can tell you is her number is at the top of my list,” he said as he pointed to the same picture of the woman he had shown Reese in the hotel.  </p>
<p>Reese stood there for a moment wondering what Finch was hiding.  There was more going on here than what Finch had told him and he really didn’t have much to work with yet but again his curiosity got to him.  He was definitely intrigued.  “So, how do we get started?”</p>
<p>Finch visibly relaxed with Reese’s question.   Reese realized that Finch was worried he was going to turn him down.  Another observation to file away.  Finch may hold the knowledge key but he controlled the lock on the action.  Made the playing field a little more level. </p>
<p>“We need to get back downtown so you can set eyes on Diane Hanson.  She’s an Assistant District Attorney. I’ll fill you in on the way.”</p>
<p>Putting his suit jacket back on, Finch shrugged his shoulder to get it to fit properly.  He called his limo from his cell phone as he and Reese made their way back downstairs.  Reese had to admire Finch’s choice as a control center.  It was actually more of a hideout than a ‘headquarters’ since they were the only two there.  Definitely a more accurate description.<br/>________</p>
<p>The limo stopped at a crowded sidewalk with people scurrying all directions.  Most had their heads down looking at their phones.  Few if any made any eye contact with people they were passing.  Reese did not miss these crowds but they were good for blending in.</p>
<p>Exiting the limo Finch led Reese to a building and there, just like clock-work, Diane Hanson came out.  Briefcase in hand, she completely ignored them and walked toward a food truck to buy coffee.  Giving Reese the barest of details, Finch explained that something was going to happen to Hanson and he wanted Reese to stop it.</p>
<p>Watching Reese watch Hanson, Finch was curious about how he would go about doing just that.  He could tell Reese was taking it all in, the clothes, the briefcase, the confident way she walked.  He knew he was picking up clues that he, himself, could not see.  Apparently his time on the streets had not dulled Reese’s senses. He needed him to connect the dots that the Machine couldn’t see.</p>
<p>Unable to wait any longer he asked Reese how he would start.  Reese had almost forgotten Finch was there. He was surprised at how easily he had fallen back into ‘active observer mode’.  He was taking in little insignificant details that he’d been trained to observe to help build a profile of a target, looking for strengths and weaknesses.  Apparently his skillset from his CIA days had not left him, after all this time.</p>
<p>Reese gave Finch a little bit of insight into how he would get started.  Since time was of the essence and Finch didn’t know if the good/bad thing would happen in a month, a week, a day or even hours, Reese opted for the fast approach: breaking and entering.</p>
<p>Back in the limo Finch dropped Reese off a block from Hanson’s apartment and gave him a jump drive to download from her laptop if he found one.  </p>
<p>“Call me when you’re done,”  Finch said as the limo door closed.</p>
<p>Reese easily broke in the apartment, rummaged through the different rooms.  He was careful to not move anything out of place that would arouse concern. It only took a few minutes before he called Finch back.  </p>
<p>The ride in the limo was quiet.  Finch was on his phone and Reese was running through what he had seen in Hanson’s apartment, looking for clues about WHO she really was.  He gave the jump drive to Finch with the info, emails, etc that he’d copied from Hanson’s computer.</p>
<p>Reese leaned back in the limo and closed his eyes.  He’d done all he could do today.  He hadn’t seen anything that made him feel that the ‘bad thing’ was going to happen today.  It had been unexpectedly pleasant to be out and doing something constructive.  Being out among people.  His world had been so narrow the last couple of months.  Joan had kept him safe from himself and had slowly pushed him back into the world but had made no demands on him.</p>
<p>Thinking of Joan made him sit up suddenly.  He had actually gone a full day not thinking about her.  Not thinking about how she’d kicked him out……….literally.  But then he realized that the shock of being told to leave had lessened.  The pain was still there but he’d locked it away, just like he’d locked his feelings of guilt over Jessica.  Being sober was starting to feel more normal.</p>
<p>The limo came to a stop and Reese looked out the window.  They were back at the hotel where he’d been picked up that morning.  Looking over at Finch he raised one eyebrow in askance but said nothing.</p>
<p>“We’ve done enough today.  I need to do some more digging to figure out just what we’re looking for with Ms. Hanson.  The information on this jump drive should help immensely.  You can stay the night here until we’re done if you’d like.  I’ve taken care of the bill.”</p>
<p>Reese realized this was not an offer he could refuse.  Nice place to sleep with no worries about how he was going to pay.  No worries about somebody trying to steal from him.  Just cool sheets and a calm, quiet night.  Certainly better than being back on the streets.</p>
<p>“Thanks.” Before Reese could open the door the driver was there opening it for him.  As he started to get out Finch called out to him.</p>
<p>“Wait, you’ll need some more money for dinner and breakfast.”  Once again he gave Reese a money clip with quite a few bills folded in it.</p>
<p>“Ms. Hanson has court tomorrow morning at 9 am.  I’ll send the car for you at 8:00”</p>
<p>Taking the money Reese gave a small salute and exited the limo.  Watching the limo drive away Reese shook his head.  He could get used to this kind of life.  But it didn’t feel real.  It was too easy.  The phrase ‘too good to be true’ echoed in his head as he walked into the hotel.</p>
<p>On the elevator ride up to his room Reese decided he’d stay in and maybe get some food sent up.  Finch was footing the bill so why not enjoy it.  </p>
<p>After placing an order for room service he kicked off his shoes and walked into the spacious bathroom.  It was bigger than the whole living space he used to share with Joan.  Thinking of Joan caught him off guard once again.  He almost felt guilty enjoying a place like this while she shared everything with everybody.  Privacy had been a rare thing in their group in the warehouse.  </p>
<p>But she’d kicked him out and that had hurt.  Best not even go there.  Shaking his head he peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower.  Better to enjoy the shower to the fullest because he didn’t know when he’d get another one like this.  Besides, it helped to clear his mind.</p>
<p>Room service arrived right on time with dinner.  Settling in, he dove into the food.  He’d really ordered too much food but he figured he could eat some later for a midnight snack or something.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stretching out on the bed to watch TV, Reese let his mind wander.  He felt tired but it was a good tired, a productive tired.  A whole day of having something specific to do.  He’d spent too many aimless days when he had been on the streets.  Never had any goals other than where was the next meal coming from and where to sleep at night.  Living with Joan and her crew had taken care of those two worries.  But after that, there really was nothing to actually DO.  </p>
<p>Staring up at the ceiling he thought about today.  He’d spent so much of his life doing something every day, all day, and always following orders. Once that was gone,  it had actually taken both a physical as well as mental toll on him to have nothing planned and he hadn’t even realized it. Now, having something planned out like today and even tomorrow was actually comforting to him.  He liked structure, discipline, and being in the military had been the best thing for him.  Kept him out of trouble.  It gave him something to do and a place to be.  Growing up without his father, when he’d been in Vietnam and later when he had died after being home for such a short time, he’d been lost and become rather wild.  Hanging out with the wrong people got him in that predicament that ended with him going into the military instead of jail.  Memories of the trouble he’d gotten into made him smile.  But then other memories made him frown.  He’d hurt his mother.</p>
<p>Closing his eyes for a moment he let good memories of his mother and sister flow through his memory.  The times his father was home on leave and they were actually a family again, even if for only a short time.  As he fell into a deep sleep a smile played lightly over his face.</p>
<p>________________________</p>
<p>His internal clock ticked 6am on the dot as always.  Keeping his eyes closed he used his ears to check his surroundings.  It was quiet except for the muted sound of the air conditioning system. There were just the faintest sounds of traffic if he strained to listen for it.</p>
<p>Opening his eyes he was surprised at how totally rested he felt.  He had been truly, deeply asleep.  More so than any time he could remember since he was young.  That let him realize just how comfortable he felt.  Even when he’d lived with Joan he’d kept one ear ‘awake’ listening for any threats or trouble.  He never completely relaxed like he apparently did last night.</p>
<p>Stretching out to make full use of the king-size bed he gave into the feeling of true bliss, even if just for a moment.  And a moment was all he got.  The phone on the bedside table rang.  He answered and heard a female voice advising it was his 6:15 am wake-up call.  Stretching back over to hang up he made a deep sigh and sat up.  Swinging his legs over to the side he enjoyed the softness of the rug under his bare feet.  It wouldn’t be too hard to get used to this again despite his months on the streets.</p>
<p>Since he wasn’t 100% sure exactly how today was going to go, he figured he’d better eat a good breakfast.  Room service was quickly becoming one of his favorite new things.   A full course breakfast was a great way to start any day.</p>
<p>A quick shower and a shave got him into ‘work mode’.  Dressed in the only other change of clothes he’d purchased, he was ready when the front desk called to tell him his car was here.</p>
<p>Once again a black limo waited for him.  The same driver opened the door as he approached and greeted him, “Good morning, Mr Reese.”  Reese smiled.  So much for being undercover or blending in with the crowd.</p>
<p>Climbing inside he wasn’t surprised to see that Finch was there.  He hoped Finch would give him some background about the case that Hanson would currently be working on.  The actual amount of information Finch was able to give him was impressive.  There definitely was more to this little man with the money than he’d initially thought.</p>
<p>“Be better if you let me out a block or two before the courthouse.  I’m not really dressed to be riding in a limo.” Reese said, pulling the black coat open with a smile.</p>
<p>Raising one eyebrow Finch took in his appearance.  He started to say something about what did he use the money he’d given him for but held his tongue.  </p>
<p>“Excellent point, Mr. Reese,”  Finch spoke to the driver and told him where to drop Reese off.</p>
<p>Reese blended in with the many different types of people moving through the courthouse.  Some were obviously lawyers by the way they were dressed, others were either defendants or family of defendants from their attire.  Reese hung around til he spotted Hanson.  Working his way around he was able to get right behind her as she went through security.  When they both put down their phones to walk through the security screening, Reese set his phone to bluejack hers and it was cloned quickly and easily.  </p>
<p>Watching her in action in the courtroom had been interesting.  She was very much in control, very self-confident with her cross-examination.  Up until the witness on the stand, a cop named Fusco, seemed to unexpectedly add a little bit more to his testimony.  That caught her off guard.  Reese had the suspicion she didn’t like surprises like that.</p>
<p>After court he watched her interact with the witness and dress him down for going outside their agreed-upon script.  She was not afraid to call him out on it.  But the slightly heavyset witness, Detective? Pushed right back about being on the same team.  Just who was this Fusco?  Reese didn’t like unknowns like that.  Something just seemed ‘off’ about that whole exchange that he’d just witnessed.</p>
<p>Puzzling over what he’d seen and heard in the courtroom, Reese moved with the crowd and exited the courthouse.  Finch had told him to call when he got out.  Standing on the steps of the courthouse, Reese decided he needed a little fresh air and to see where his thoughts took him.</p>
<p>Lost in thought, Reese walked for a couple of blocks and found himself in front of a coffee shop.  Walking inside he waited in line to place his order.  Once again, he marveled at how nobody seemed to notice him.  Everybody was lost in their own little world.  When he’d been on the streets people were always aware of him and tried to keep their distance.  Here, people jostled him and mumbled ‘scuse me’ and kept on going.  It felt bizarre to be back to this feeling of “normal”. </p>
<p>There was an outside seating area and he grabbed a table closest to the sidewalk and street.  He preferred having a 360 degree view of his surroundings.  Using the coffee shop window’s reflection provided just that advantage.  Some old habits were just too ingrained to be shut off.</p>
<p>The last time he’d sat in an outdoor cafe had been Paris.  With Stanton.  He shut down that memory quickly.  No need bringing up old memories of his dead partner and mentor…...who had tried to kill him by the way.  Watching the crowds he realized the only difference here in NYC and Paris was the language.  They dressed alike and had phones to their ears or in front of their faces.  Otherwise, they were interchangeable.  Only he was different.</p>
<p>In Paris he had been on high alert watching for their target.  He had two guns, one concealed in the waistband of his pants and one strapped to his ankle.  Here, he had nothing.  No weapon of any kind.  That was something that he would have to work on, soon.  With that in mind, he called Finch and told him where to pick him up. </p>
<p>Between the information, Finch had been able to gather online and Reese’s observations from watching and following Hanson, they were both convinced that Hanson was the target.  The question was by whom and why was she being targeted?  Reese had narrowed it down to three people:  her law partner whom she’d had an affair with, a paroled client she had previously put in jail or the current defendant she was prosecuting.  </p>
<p>Reese found himself enjoying talking over the ‘case’ with Finch.  The give and take between them was refreshing.  They were two very different individuals but they seemed to work rather well together, bringing out each other’s strong points.  It had been quite a while since he’d really had to use his mind so intricately.  Life on the street was a small concentrated circle of people and places that tended to repeat day after day.  But now he felt like he was literally stretching his mind.  And it felt good.</p>
<p>Reese began shadowing Hanson almost around the clock to be able to protect her whenever the ‘bad thing’ was going to happen.  Her schedule was busy at the courthouse and then back to her apartment, which didn’t require that much effort.  Getting into a position with a bird’s eye view of her office did take a little ingenuity.  High up on the rooftop of an adjacent church gave him a great view.  It was invigorating to look down on the rest of the world.  Smiling to himself he watched life playing out in all its normalcy many stories below.  Nobody knew he was up there, watching.  </p>
<p>That thought caught him off guard.  He was suddenly reminded of sitting on the outside ledge of the bridge all those nights.  Cold, alone, and holding a brown paper bag with a bottle in it.  Watching the ships going under the bridge with their crews working.  Hearing cars passing behind him in both directions.  The deja vu was close enough to make him shiver.  Bringing his thoughts back to the job at hand, he shut out the other memories completely.  That part of his life was done.</p>
<p>Not knowing when and not sure who Hanson was being targeted by put Reese on edge.  Following her one night, he found himself outside the city jail while she talked to Lawrence Pope, the guy she was currently prosecuting in court. Hanson then mentioned Pope’s younger brother, Micheal and suddenly Pope turned defensive.  He attacked her and yelled at her to leave his brother alone or “they” will kill him.  Reese’s protector mode kicked into high gear and he was immediately ready to break into the jail but thankfully the guards intervened and she was safe.  However, Hanson’s mention of Lawrence Pope’s brother gives them another angle to investigate in trying to find the threat to Hanson.  Whoever it is, it added another player in the game.  But this was a serious game of life and death, of that Reese was certain.</p>
<p>Even as the drama played out around him, Reese began to feel alive again.  He was using the skills he trained for, ones that over years had become second nature to him.  He was looking for the angles, moving around in the shadows, man-handling people if need be.  He was connecting to the world again, and it felt good.  And he was doing it on his own terms.</p>
<p>Re-connecting to the world also showed him just how ‘rusty’ he was with those skills.  Finch had been able to tell him where to locate the younger brother, Michael, but when he’d tried to connect with him, it had not gone well.  Reese ended up spooking the boy who then ended up running away after claiming Reese was trying to take pictures of him. But not before Reese dropped his cell phone into the boy’s backpack of course. He hadn’t gotten THAT rusty when it came to his spycraft 101.  Reese however, was then left to face some righteous ‘good samaritans’ stepping in. He’d hated to bust that guy’s lip or break the one guy’s nose, after all, they were just being decent human beings, but due to their long period of disuse, his glib manners just didn’t come as quickly as they used to. </p>
<p>Back in the library, Reese sat down at one of the computers that were already connected to the  NYPD, courtesy of Finch.  Finding the arrest report for his new 'friend' Anton he quickly culled the pertinent info.  Mentioning to Finch that he was in need of some weapons besides just a cellphone.   Finch stepped back and said rather piously, “About that, I don’t like firearms very much, Mr. Reese.”  Without missing a beat Reese replied, “Well neither do I,  but if somebody has to have them, I’d rather it was me.”  and that ended that discussion.</p>
<p>In a short span of time, Reese had accomplished his mission and armed himself quite well, much to the consternation of Anton and his friends.  Amateurs on the streets with guns like that…….now that scared HIM. </p>
<p>Now that he had a sufficient haul of weapons, Reese felt much more in control.  He felt ready to take on the bad guys.  His Bluetooth beeped in his ear. It was Finch.  Michael had been kidnapped but because of the cell phone in his backpack, Finch was able to track him.</p>
<p>Reese hailed a taxi and threw in his bag of recently acquired weapons.  Finch sent Michael’s location to Reese.  The adrenalin began pumping.  It had been a while since he’d needed to get ‘physical’ with a target.  But this target needed protection, which made it different.  The taxi dropped him off at a deserted intersection.</p>
<p>Reese walked a few steps and dropped the bag of weapons, but held onto one.  Using one hand, he pulled a mask that he’d found in the bag down over his face.  He smirked under the mask, who was he hiding from?  Who the hell cared who he was?  Everybody that cared thought that he was dead.  Except maybe that female cop. Shaking his head slightly, he dismissed that concern.</p>
<p>Muscle memory took over.  The calmness that he had come to expect and rely on, took over.  The adrenalin rush was under control.  His thoughts were clear and concise.  No matter what, he felt more alive at this moment than any he had since Ordoz.  Or was that New Rochelle?  Suddenly too many memories came crashing back at once.  Not good.</p>
<p>Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind and his head.  This was not the time to get lost in his memories.  He was once again in fight mode.  Taking aim from the hip, he took out the oncoming car with a gas grenade.  Taking out the driver and another one who jumped out shooting, Reese checked for ID to find out just who had kidnapped the boy.  They needed to know who they were up against before this thing got even more dangerous for the people they were trying to protect.</p>
<p>Dragging Michael Pope out of the crashed car, he met some surprising resistance.  Michael recognized Reese from their run-in on the street and flipped.</p>
<p>“You’re crazy!  We’re both dead now!  Do you know who they are??”</p>
<p>Reese looked down at the ID he’d taken off the shooter and saw a police badge. </p>
<p>“I do now. They’re cops.”</p>
<p>After stashing him in a safe house that Finch had directed him to, Reese went back out and picked up the mother.  The only way they’d be able to keep him safe and make him stay in one place was to bring in his mother.  Worked like a charm once he explained to the mom that her youngest son was in danger. Reese was sure she’d stay hidden with Michael until this was all over.   </p>
<p>Now that Reese knew it was a bunch of dirty cops that were actually after Hanson he knew he had to get more info and fast.  Finch was able to quickly get him info on the badge number he’d lifted.  It belonged to a Detective Stills.  The information Finch was able to dig up impressed Reese with both the details he found and how quickly.  Some of the info Finch gave him had to come straight from encrypted police files.  Finch’s intelligence and more important, commitment to this whole thing went up a couple of notches in Reese’s estimation.</p>
<p>The next day he began following Still, tracking him to a diner.  Sitting out in the car waiting for him to come out, Reese realized he’d come full circle.  How many times had he sat in a car just like this one, watching and waiting for a target to move, ready to take pictures?  The biggest difference between now and then was that he was in the US now.  The CIA wasn’t allowed to work on US soil.  He’d always tuned out all the other sounds around him, traffic, conversations, etc. so he could concentrate.  But now he needed to hear the conversation.  People were speaking English.  He might learn something he could use.  Then came the surprise...</p>
<p>Stills walked out the door of the diner with a group of men.  And one of them was the detective that Hanson had been talking to!  Now he had the connection!  But not the reason.  Just what was going on?  This ‘situation’ that Finch needed help with was getting more and more convoluted.  Now his interest was really piqued.  He took a full roll of pictures to make sure he got a good clear one of each man in the group.</p>
<p>Later that same day, Reese and Finch agreed to meet in Central Park.  Giving Finch the pictures he’d taken of Stills' gang of obviously dirty cops, Reese was blunt.  </p>
<p>“What exactly have you gotten me into?” </p>
<p>“That’s exactly why I hired you, Mr. Reese.  To figure it out.” </p>
<p>There was more and more to this ‘simple rescue/prevention’ scenario that Finch had talked him into.  The level of deceit was getting deep.  Reese kept pushing Finch to tell him how he was getting all this information.  How did he know who was in trouble?  Why did that wall in his office have so many ‘missed opportunities’?  </p>
<p>Reese had watched Finch enough to know he wasn’t going to get more information out of him than he was willing to give.  He could not be tricked or forced into saying more than he wanted to. After all, he was a ‘very private person’ and Reese had yet to be able to find that one crack that would allow him to pry open the door that Finch was guarding so closely. </p>
<p>Taking a different tactic, he explained what he’d figured out about what Stills and his crew were up to.  They apparently were comfortable enough to not worry about being overheard and he’d overheard a lot of very interesting information.</p>
<p>“Stills is in narcotics, he and his men get word of deals.  They steal the drugs, the cash and then they kill the witnesses.  And they get Fusco to frame the guys selling the drugs.  And I think their next target is Hanson.”</p>
<p>Pushing Finch a little more, he let his frustration show.  He was having trouble getting the complete picture because Finch wouldn’t tell him where he was getting his info from.  The tone of frustration in his voice finally seemed to reach Finch.  Finch was obviously having trouble deciding what to do. He could tell that Finch was struggling about what to tell him.  But he wasn’t sure if the problem was WHAT he could tell him or how MUCH he could tell him.  Maybe both.  Finch was good at hiding his thoughts but Reese could tell he was reliving a memory that obviously distressed him. He was also able to tell when Finch had made up his mind.  He began telling Reese a story, a story he was NOT expecting.  </p>
<p>Reese knew the information Finch had access to had come from a computer but he was truly taken aback that it was a computer that Finch had BUILT.  Reese didn’t know a whole lot about programming but what he did know had him stunned at the pure genius and level of commitment Finch must have had to build such a Machine. Reese could only wonder at the implications this entire thing had on peoples’ everyday lives and they had no idea!  With all the secrets the government had entrusted to him throughout his missions, even Reese had no idea that such a thing was even possible!  Suddenly all the parts started falling into place.  Now he was getting a complete picture.  He was ready to end this and save Hanson. </p>
<p>Watching Hanson at work from the church across the street from the courthouse, Reese was getting antsy.  He felt that something was going to happen and happen soon.  Having the information he now had, it made waiting all the harder.  Things tend to move in slow motion when you’re edgy.   Even though lives were at risk, danger was taking its time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That moment finally came and Reese was ready.  Hanson was being lured into a rendezvous that would surely end in her death.  The microphone he had previously planted caught the phone call setting her up.  </p>
<p>The deadly calm he was used to on a mission took over.  Following her to a deserted alleyway he brought along one of the firearms he’d gotten from Anton.  It was all coming to a head.  He’d be able to protect her and take down the dirty cops.  </p>
<p>With cool precision, he trained the gun sight on the far end of the alley.  Listening to Hanson calling out hello, he was waiting for an answer just as much as she was.  His finger was on the trigger ready to take them out.</p>
<p>Suddenly her voice changed.  She spoke to them! She recognized them!  She knew the dirty cops!  They weren’t there to kill her!  They were working WITH her!</p>
<p>He was shocked that he had gotten it so wrong.  Shocked that he had been fooled so completely.  All of the confidence he’d regained when he thought he’d figured this out, evaporated.  He dropped his guard so completely that he didn’t hear somebody come up behind him until the man put a gun against his head.  </p>
<p>Being held at gunpoint was not new to Reese.  It had happened more than once when he was in the military.  And even more often when he was CIA.  He didn’t really care what happened to himself.  He’d been living on borrowed time for years.  This was just one more bump in the road that could end in a crash.  He didn’t care about Hanson.  If she was fated to be killed, so be it.  She was guilty.  But he did worry about the man who had put him in the position, Finch. What would Finch do if Reese disappeared? A man who was so committed to his goal of saving people would not just stop because Reese was suddenly gone. A man like Finch would likely keep trying to help Hanson, not realizing he was helping the wrong person. He also worried a little about Michael and his mother in the safe house.  Either way, there was not much he could do for any of them now, like this.  The only way left open to him was to play a dumb smartass.  His reward was a gun butt in the face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up in the back of a car was rude.  The sun was in his face and his face hurt.  Squinting into the bright sunshine, he took in the view of the countryside he was riding through.  Looking toward the driver in the front seat he recognized Detective Fusco.  Well, well, things were looking up.  He’d already sized up Fusco and knew he could handle him.  Even with his hands cuffed together.</p>
<p>Smirking his way through the conversation with Fusco he laid out his plans for the future.  He pegged Fusco perfectly and recruited him on the spot, without Fusco even realizing that’s what he was doing.  Taking matters into his own hands he rescued himself with a grenade that Fusco had failed to find when he got the drop on him earlier. </p>
<p>Before leaving the dazed Fusco on the road next to the rolled car, Reese verified he had his vest on and shot him point-blank in the back 3 times, with Fusco’s own gun.  If he was going to be able to use Fusco, he had to make sure the man had plausible deniability when the police investigated the wreck and shooting.</p>
<p>Reese’s priority now was letting Finch know that Hanson was not the target but was rather part of the dirty cops gang.  His high school misadventures came back in a flash when he had to hotwire a car to get to Hanson’s partner Wheeler. From the conversations he had overheard inn the alley before being coldcocked, Reese now knew that Wheeler was the target that Reese and Finch had unknowingly dismissed.</p>
<p>Finch gave Reese the address for Wheeler, an apartment building.  Berating himself for missing the signs that now seemed so evident that Hanson was the ‘big bad’, did nothing but make Reese angry as he drove.  He knew he was not as sharp as he had been in the past working with Stanton.  He doubted he’d have been this far off.  He’d become too complacent and thought this was an easy ‘job’ only to find out there was much more at stake.  He had definitely not brought his “A game” to play.  And now somebody could lose their life because he’d been complacent about his work for Finch. </p>
<p>Arriving at the apartment building, Reese was concerned because it was a small building, probably only had 10 apartments.   He’d hoped it would have been a big, well-lit, flashy apartment building, one that would have made it harder for Still and his gang to get away with a murder.  Instead, the streets were relatively deserted, the lobby looked dim.  It was too small to even have a doorman.  The tenants could come and go easily.  But now, so could killers.</p>
<p>Parking his stolen car in the next block, Reese made his way back to the apartment building.  Quickly taking out two of Still’s gang as they followed Wheeler downstairs, Reese now had Stills in his sights, less than five feet away.  Stills was holding the guy they had planned to pin Wheeler’s death on in a tight grip with a gun against his head.  He sneered at Reese and threatened him and his family for having the nerve to stop what Stills had planned to do.  </p>
<p>At that moment, Reese knew.   He knew he was where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do. </p>
<p>The world went quiet and time stood still.</p>
<p>“Went all around the world looking for bad guys, but there are plenty of them right here all along.” He whispered in a low voice, almost overcome with the emotions and knowledge of what he was going to have to do.</p>
<p>Gunshots rang out.  The guy who was supposed to be the ‘patsy’ ran out the door unscathed.</p>
<p>Stills was dead on the floor with a gunshot between the eyes.  Reese stood over him.  Cocking his head to the side he said, “Bye”</p>
<p>Knowing the police would be there quickly, Reese threw Stills over his shoulder and took him out to his car a block away.  Stashing him in the trunk he drove slowly away.  Police cars with lights and sirens drove past him on their way to the scene that was covered in blood but had no bodies.</p>
<p>Trying to figure out what to do with Stills’ body, Reese remembered that he’d shot Stills with Fusco’s gun.  A deadly smile creased his face.  He knew exactly what to do with the body AND how to permanently recruit Fusco into working with him.</p>
<p>Early the next morning, Fusco climbed into his police car at the precinct and was greeted with the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his neck.  Looking into the rearview mirror, he rolled his eyes.  </p>
<p>Reese explained how Stills was killed with Fusco’s gun, so Fusco needed to get rid of Stills’ body, which just happened to be in the trunk, so that Fusco wouldn’t get blamed for the death.  Smiling, Reese exited the police car and disappeared, leaving Fusco no choice but to do what he’d been told.</p>
<p>In a call to Finch, Reese filled him in on the closing details about Stills and his deal with Fusco..  Finch informed Reese about what he’d done with the recording of Hanson talking to Stills when she put the hit out on Wheeler.  Reese took great pleasure sitting in the courtroom when the recording played without her prior knowledge.  The look on her face made the bruise on his face worth it.</p>
<p>Finch asked Reese to meet back at the park bench where they had first met.  He was there before Reese and sat down on the bench.  Reese walked over and stood beside the bench.</p>
<p>“You’ve got a decision to make,” Finch said without preamble.</p>
<p>“The Machine gave you another number”.</p>
<p>“The numbers never stop coming, you should know that upfront” replied Finch.</p>
<p>Reese sat down next to Finch, saying nothing.</p>
<p>Joan’s words had been echoing in his head all day.  She had told him he was meant for bigger and better things.  Was this what she was referring to?  She had healed him but she had pushed him out of the group that he’d made his home.</p>
<p>
  <i>“You need to be back out in the world helping people.  I've told you before that you are a natural-born protector and there are so many people who need your help John, your protection. It sounds like that is what this man is offering you might be just what you need."</i>
</p>
<p>Looking over at Finch he could hear her voice in his ear.  <i>“Take the job he’s offering you”.</i></p>
<p>He remembered one of their conversations from late at night. She’d said that she had been given a second chance when she took him in.  A second chance to save someone when she hadn’t been able to save her son.  Now Reese, himself, had a second chance to protect and help people after he failed to protect and save Jessica.  </p>
<p>
  <i>“John, you know I’m right.  You have hidden here long enough. The world needs you.  I know there are people out there that need you.  Listen to your heart, John.  You’re ready.”</i>
</p>
<p>Was this right, was this the moment he had been striving for but didn’t know it?  He knew that he’d felt alive again, connected again, while working with Finch.  That’s what his numbers were, people who needed help, who needed protection.</p>
<p>
  <i>“I believe in you, John.  You just need to believe in yourself,”</i>
</p>
<p>The clarity of her words and this moment was blinding.  Smiling slightly to himself he nodded his head, yes he was ready. He believed.  He finally believed in himself and was ready to help Finch and anyone else who needed him.</p>

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    <a href="https://imgur.com/r0joGUq">
      
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761161">Art for Clarity</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souhashi/pseuds/Souhashi">Souhashi</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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